


Adversity

by lionofwrath



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Ambiguous Time Travel, Angst, Gen, M/M, or Only a Dream?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 04:36:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16110935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionofwrath/pseuds/lionofwrath
Summary: He saves himself, because no one else did.





	Adversity

**Author's Note:**

> I usually don’t post my stranger ideas, but I wrote this instead of working on the next part of Fall (whoops) and I thought I’d share since I rather like how it turned out.

He was standing in front of the Spencer estate, staring up at the mansion looming above him. That was odd because he hadn’t travelled here, in fact he distinctly remembered being in bed earlier in the evening. But here he was again, facing his past both recent and distant.

The place was familiar and yet subtly different, and startlingly real despite the fact that he knew it was a dream. He could smell the sea and the forest, feel the breeze on his face and the leather against his skin, all the little details that convinced his senses this was reality.

He glanced over the exterior, noting idly which windows showed light through the darkness. Going in wasn’t his first choice but he felt inexorably drawn towards the mansion, not just by simple curiosity but by something stronger. He knocked firmly. It took him a moment to recognise the man who opened the door as Spencer’s butler. He had only met the man once but this was a young man, not the older one that he expected to see.

‘Yes?’ The man asked icily. ‘Lord Spencer isn’t expecting guests.’

He caught the slight hand signal, undoubtedly to alert the guards, but it didn’t worry him. ‘Lord Spencer?’ He repeated, as everything suddenly made sense to him, this was a dream after all and he grinned widely. ‘Oh, I think he’ll see me.’ His smile twisted as he drove his hand into the man’s chest, throwing him to the floor as the hidden guards opened fire on him. They never came close to hitting him, the bullets damaging the front hall as he dodged them, murdering the guards carelessly and messily.

When they were all dead he stood at the bottom of the staircase, tilting his head curiously as he stared at the door at the top. He ascended the stairs slowly, wondering if he would really find Spencer here.

‘What is it?’ An imperious voice demanded as he pushed the study door open. A man was seated at a desk, turning to glare at him as he entered. Spencer was younger too, not the frail old man that he had killed in the past, or was it the future? He wasn’t sure anymore, and didn’t care at the moment, he was far more intrigued by the notion of killing the same man twice. ‘Who are you? Security!’ Spencer barked as he stood up, obviously reaching for a gun.

‘They’re all dead.’ He smiled viciously, flexing his fingers eagerly as he studied the man. ‘There’s no one coming to save you.’ Just like no one had come to save him from Spencer’s experiments, and he enjoyed the sight of fear on the face of the man he loathed. ‘As for who I am…’ He pulled his sunglasses off, watching Spencer’s eyes widen in horror as he saw what he was facing. ‘I’m the god you created.’

‘No…’ Spencer shook his head as if he could deny what was right in front of him, lowering the gun in his shock. ‘That’s not possible… you can’t be…’

‘Maybe not.’ He shrugged, unconcerned as his excitement grew. ‘Maybe this is nothing more than a dream. But it’s one you’ll never wake from.’ Quicker than thought he was on Spencer, pulling him into an embrace as he had the old man, whispering the name Spencer had given him in his ear as he forced his hand through the man’s body. He savoured the look of confusion in Spencer’s dying eyes, that sweet moment as the man realised that he was already dead and he let the body drop lifelessly away from him.

Dream or not though, there was still something he needed to do here. He replaced his sunglasses, heading for a staircase he knew led upwards. The guards on the upper levels couldn’t stop him and it wasn’t long before he found himself in front of a door labelled only with the number 13. He could hear the soft sounds of children crying behind all the doors but he was only here for one of them. His rage sparked again as he reached for the door handle, breaking the lock easily.

The room was dizzyingly familiar, as was the blond boy lying in the bed. The boy gasped, flinching away from him, pulling the sheets up protectively. ‘It’s ok, I’m not going to hurt you.’ He knew what to say, what he had longed to hear while he was trapped in this place. ‘I’m here to rescue you.’

‘R-Really?’ The boy asked hopefully, scrubbing the tears off his face. ‘I can go home?’

The word struck him like a blow, he didn’t remember home anymore, but that was why he was here, to change his fate. It no longer mattered if this was a dream, he could save him, spare this boy who still remembered what home meant the years of cruelty and abuse that he had suffered. ‘Yes.’ He held his hand out in what he hoped was a non-threatening gesture. ‘I’m going to take you home.’

The boy slid off the bed, taking his hand and staring up at him with somber grey eyes. The connection between them was strange, as if he was both an adult and a child simultaneously, and the boy must have felt it too, he couldn’t imagine ever being this trusting of anyone.

‘My name’s Albert.’

He could tell the boy was lying and he couldn’t help asking the question he didn’t know the answer to. ‘What’s your real name?’

The boy withdrew, his eyes scared, his voice high and panicked. ‘Albert, it’s Albert.’

No point in pushing him, he remembered how brutal Spencer’s punishments for disobedience had been even if he couldn’t always remember why he’d earned one. ‘Sorry, it’s just… that’s my name too.’ He offered awkwardly, attempting to smile in a friendly manner.

‘Oh.’ The boy chewed his lip. ‘Is that your real name?’

Lying was second-nature to him but he wouldn’t lie to this child. ‘No. A man who hurt me called me that. But I don’t mind it anymore.’

‘Oh.’ The boy didn’t seem to know how to respond.

He crouched down in front of the boy, meeting his eyes. ‘Listen to me. It’s not your fault… what he did to you. You didn’t deserve any of this.’ Wishing someone had said that to him, that anyone had cared enough to help him instead of hurting him more. He studied the boy’s face, hoping he believed it, that this child would be able to recover where he hadn’t.

The boy nodded.

‘Let’s get you out of here.’ He tugged the child down the corridor, surprised when he felt resistance.

‘Wait. You have to save them too.’

‘What?’

‘The others.’ The boy pointed at the doors lining the hallway.

He stared at them, reading the number plates, then back at the boy, shocked at the unfamiliar compassion he was showing. The boy set his mouth in a stubborn frown that he recognised all too well, and a smile tugged at his lips as he conceded. ‘Fine.’ He broke the other locks, rounding up all the children. Most of them were scared of him and when he ordered them to stay together and hold hands they obeyed without question.

He led them out of the mansion then stopped, realising that he had no idea what to do next. Part of him was still convinced that this was a dream, that once he’d left the mansion it would end. Spencer was dead, Project W over, the children rescued… He glanced back at the blond boy, recalling that he had agreed to take him home. That was why he remained here, he hadn’t truly saved him until he fulfilled that promise.

This was a different time, he had no influence here, no contacts, but he knew how to manipulate people into doing what he wanted and so far his dream intuition hadn’t led him wrong. The rest ended up being surprisingly straightforward and uneventful. He knew exactly where to find all the files on Project W, as well as the rest of Umbrella’s dirty little secrets and it was pathetically easy to bring the entire company down once more.

While he was content to let social workers ensure that most of the children made it back to their families, there was one that he had to handle himself. The boy was trying to be brave but he could sense his nervousness, he felt a certain amount of trepidation as well. ‘I promised to take you home.’

Grey eyes met his steadily. ‘You did.’ It almost sounded like the boy was trying to comfort him. Before he could respond the boy glanced away at something else. ‘Mom!’

The boy ran off towards the couple and he watched, finally seeing the faces of the parents that he’d never really known. His mother just cried, hugging her returned child and he heard his father say his name, his real name. He closed his eyes as he started to cry for the first time since he was young, shutting out the world until it felt like the dream had vanished around him, but the only thing he could feel was a deep, bitter regret.

 

He woke up suddenly, staring at the ceiling and breathing harshly, tears still running down his face.

‘Hey, you ok? Bad dream?’

He could just make out Chris in the dim morning light. ‘Weird dream.’ He corrected, rolling over to settle into Chris’ arms.

Chris touched his cheek gently. ‘You’re crying, are you sure you’re ok?’

The dream did weigh on him, it had felt bizarrely real and clear. Usually his memories of that early trauma were blurred by time and the emotional distance he’d gained through therapy. And there had been extra details that he hadn’t experienced firsthand. He sighed, absently rubbing Chris’ hip as he thought. ‘You know that no one ever figured out the identity of the man who saved me?’

Chris nodded, they’d talked about his childhood before and he knew Chris remembered.

‘In my dream, it was me.’ He frowned, realising that wasn’t entirely correct. ‘But not me, a different me, cruel, inhuman.’

‘Sounds more like a nightmare.’ Chris said lightly, but his eyes showed his concern.

‘No, it wasn’t.’ He said quickly, defensive of the man who was and wasn’t him. ‘I- He was just so hurt, and so angry, as if he’d suffered for so long he couldn’t feel anything else.’ He shivered and Chris held him tighter, kissing him reassuringly.

‘It was just a dream. I’m grateful to him for saving you, but whoever he was, he wasn’t you.’

‘No, I suppose not.’ He couldn’t quite shake the sense of his other self though, damaged and alone, and he hoped that wherever he was now he had managed to find some happiness. ‘I love you, Chris.’

‘I love you too.’


End file.
